


Stay Perfect

by yellow_backpack



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Cute, Fluff, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peterick, Peterick Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 08:31:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15770406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellow_backpack/pseuds/yellow_backpack
Summary: Like I said. No summaries. :)





	Stay Perfect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cheesehunter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesehunter/gifts).



> Woohoo! Longest fix I've written yet! Hope you like it!
> 
> Also: sorry it moves so fast? I don't know why that happened, sorry.

“Dude, I cannot take that dare.”

 

“C’mon, Wentz. You’ve always done it before. Why not this time?”

 

“Because, _Trohman_ ,” Pete hisses, “they won’t take the bait.”

 

“How do you know that?” Andy asks calmly. Pete shoots him an annoyed look.

 

“Because I _do_ ,” he states, matter-of-factly. “Nobody here likes guys anyways.”

 

“Bet me,” Joe says. “Now, take the bet or lose a hundred dollars.”

 

Pete sighs, rolling his eyes.. “I’ll take the stupid dare.”

 

Smiling, Andy looks at him knowingly. “Good luck, buckaroo.”

 

Pete spins around to look at the people in the record store. _There is literally no one worth checking out here._ Who did Andy and Joe expect to—

 

Pete’s eyes land on someone in the alternative section. _Wow_. He's slightly shorter than Pete, and his strawberry-blond hair flows beautifully under his knit green hat. He has thick-framed black glasses on, shielding his eyes a little bit. He bites his lip as his graceful fingers flip through the albums, lingering on one for five seconds before going to another. His worn jean jacket goes well with his blue and black striped polo. His ripped jeans and ratty old Converse tie it all together for a perfectly punk look.

 

Andy catches on to the sudden silence first. “Got your eye on someone already?”

 

It takes Pete a minute to answer. He’s too busy staring open-mouthed at the beautiful boy in the alternative section. “Uh—yeah, I do, actually.”

 

Joe laughs. “Go get him, tiger.”

 

Pete has to physically restrain himself from running to where the guy is standing. He decides to take a more casual approach and strike up an innocent conversation first.

 

“So,” he remarks, “you’re into this stuff too?” _God, Wentz, get yourself together._

 

The boy gives a light-hearted laugh, still flipping through albums. Pete loves the sound of his laugh. He wants it to fill his ears forever. “Yeah, I do. Doesn’t seem like anybody does anymore, though.”

 

“Well, today’s your lucky day, then,” Pete smiles. “I love this stuff.” He looks at the boy, waiting for a response.

 

Pete’s new acquaintance looks up with an excited look and a smile on his face. “Really? Oh my _God_ , me too. I could spend a whole day talking about the guitar riffs and the drum rhythms and God, have you heard how they sing? I wish I could do that…”

 

Pete just stares at the boy with a grin. He’s adorable when he talks about things he loves. His face lights up in the best way, and his eyes get all squinty. And now that Pete’s paying attention, he notices their color—a stunning copper ring touching the pupil and a gorgeous blue-gold encasing it all. God, it’s _so_ beautiful.

 

“...what do you think?”

 

Pete didn't even notice the question. He snaps out of his stupor. “I’m sorry, what’d you say?”

 

The boy just smiles again. “Oh, it doesn’t matter. What were you staring at, anyways?”

 

Pete blushes, hard, and looks down. “Uh, you.”

 

The boy seems taken aback. “H-huh?”

 

Pete looks up again. “Listen, I’m gonna be straightforward with you. See those buttholes over there?” He points at Andy and Joe, who are in the soul section pretending to not pay attention. The boy nods, confused. “They’re my best friends. They dared me to ask someone out or I lose a hundred bucks. Can you believe that?” Pete asks.

 

“What does that have to do with me?”

 

“Um… I was gonna ask you out.”

 

“Hold on. Let me get this straight. You were going to lead me on and ask me out just because you would’ve lost money?” He was starting to get an irritated look on his face. “Who _does_ that?”

 

Pete could hear his friends snicker behind him, making him even more determined to win this bet. “No, no, it’s not like that! I was just gonna go ahead and lose the bet, because I didn’t see anybody worth checking out, and then I saw you and I really like you, I swear. You’re really cute, and then I did want to ask you out. Not because of the bet, but because I really do want you.”

 

The boy’s eyes widen. “Really?”

 

“Yeah,” Pete confesses. “I promise.

 

The boy blushes again and looks down. “Man. Sorry I jumped to conclusions so fast. I’ve been stood up too many times. Wasn’t about to let it happen again.”

 

Pete frowns, incredulous. “I can’t imagine _anyone_ wanting to stand you up. Jesus, they don’t know what they’re missing.”

 

“Aw, thanks.”

 

“So…” Pete continues. “Can I maybe… you know… take you to dinner or something?”

 

The boy smirks. “Would you kill me if I said no?”

 

Pete’s smile was gone. “I’d be really sad,” he says truthfully.

 

“Well then, today’s your lucky day,” Patrick says, reusing Pete’s line from earlier. “The answer is yes.”

 

Pete’s face lights up. “Oh my God, really?”

 

The boy laughs. “Yes, really! I like you too.”

 

Pete was starting to get ahead of himself. “That’s awesome! Any day works for me. There’s a really good restaurant on 39th, or if you’re not up to dinner, we can grab some coffee at this really cute coffee shop I know, and I know the owner, so you wouldn’t have to pay for a thing. Or we could just do whatever you wanted, sorry, I’m kinda taking the lead—”

 

The boy stops him with a hand on the shoulder and a kind smile. “It sounds great. Friday works.”

 

Pete stares, shocked. “A-alright. D-does seven work?”

 

“Yeah, it does. What’s with all the stuttering, dude?”

 

Pete could tell he meant it playfully, but he decides to make it cute instead. “I just can’t believe I met a literal _angel_ and got him to go on a date with me.”

 

“Aw, stop it. You don’t mean that.”

 

“Yeah, I absolutely do. Hey, can I get your number or something?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” the boy replies. “And I just so happen to have a Sharpie on me.” He digs it out and pulls the cap off. “Arm?”

 

“Sure.” Pete gives his date his arm while the boy scrawls the numbers on it messily: 833-688-2697.

 

“I’m getting this tattooed,” Pete says, joking. “So, see you Friday at seven?”

 

The boy laughs. “Of course. Text me?”

 

“Will do.” Pete starts to walk away, but quickly turns around, realizing he’s forgotten something important. “Hey, wait!”

 

“Hm?”

 

“I forgot to get your name. I’m Pete.” He smiles.

 

“ _Pete_.” The boy draws the name out, testing it. “I like it. I’m Patrick,” he says with a smirk.

 

“Patrick. Got it.” Pete turns back around. “See ya,” he calls over his shoulder.

 

“Later!”

  
  


 

For Pete, Friday could not come fast enough. Him and Patrick had been texting all week, and today, he’d finally gotten his address so he could pick him up. Pete had told Patrick it was a casual date—he didn’t feel like getting dressed up, and he’d laughed when Patrick admitted he’d felt the same way.

 

They still hadn’t decided on what to do yet; Pete figured they’d figure it out as they went along. He’s fine with that. Going slow sounds nice for a change.

 

Pete walks into the bathroom to check his appearance in the mirror, even though he’s only done it fifteen times already and it was 6:30. He looks fine, but he finds himself wanting to look better—he doesn’t want to screw up his first date with a guy like Patrick.

 

He can’t wait any longer. Picking up his phone, Pete opens his messages.

 

_ hey bud, i’m sorry but i am so excited can i pick you up early _

 

He waits a couple minutes for a response. Starting to worry, his mind races. Was he being too blunt? What if he annoys Patrick? His phone buzzes in his hand.

 

**Lol yeah sure. Let’s go buddy-o**

 

Pete smiles at that. _What a dork_.

 

_ kk tricky see you in ten love ya <3 _

 

Pete nearly sprints outside and almost falls into his car. He starts it up, puts Patrick’s address in his GPS, and starts to drive.

  
  


 

Pete knocks on Patrick’s door, slightly nervous but mostly excited. The door opens up slowly and Patrick steps outside.

 

Pete can only stare for about a minute and a half. He looks almost the same as before—well, the hair, glasses, and shoes. This time, he was wearing nicer black pants and a red and gray plaid shirt.

 

“Jesus, ‘Trick, you look… _amazing_. God, I don’t know what to say.”

 

“Shut up,” Patrick mumbles, embarrassed at the compliment. “You look nice too.”

 

“Thanks.” Pete beams. “C’mon.”

 

Patrick follows Pete to his car. Pete, being the gentleman he is, opens Patrick’s door for him, which makes Patrick blush. “You didn't have to do that,” he said.

 

“What if I _wanted_ to?” Pete asks, winking. “Get in.”

 

Once Patrick had climbed in and Pete shut the door, he strolls around to the other side and gets in. He turns to Patrick and said, “So. Where are we going to?”

 

Patrick looks down. “Hadn't really thought about that yet. You can go where you want to, though. I'm just happy to be with you.”

 

Pete smiles and put his hand on Patrick's. Patrick blushes once again and smiles. They stay like that for a minute, just listening to each other’s breathing.

 

Pete finally takes his hand out of Patrick's, resting it on the steering wheel. “I think I know where to take you.”

  
  


 

They end up going to a Japanese steakhouse. Pete pays for everything, even though Patrick _insists_ he can pay for his own (“I’m not fourteen!”). Pete finds out that Patrick can’t hold his liquor very well. Pete then forbids any alcohol after that, inducing a string of playful arguments from under Patrick’s breath, all of which make Pete laugh. Everyone at the table laughs when Patrick tries and fails to catch the shrimp in his mouth. “I’m sure you can’t do any better!” he says to Pete, and he was right.

 

All in all, Pete would say it had been a great night.

 

As they climb back into the car after dinner, Pete asks Patrick if he wants to go somewhere else or if he’s done for tonight. His answer takes Pete completely by surprise.

 

“Actually, can we go to _your_ house?”

 

Pete stares at Patrick, wide-eyed. “Uh, sure, dude. What do you wanna do there?”

 

“Can we watch Disney movies?” Patrick asks, looking up at Pete with childlike eyes.

 

Pete smiles. This kid is going to be the death of him. “Aw, you’re adorable. Yeah, we can do that, I have a few. Do you wanna go back to your place first? Do you wanna change or something?”

 

Patrick considers this for a few moments. “Yeah, we can do that too.”

 

“Alright dude. Can I come in this time?”

 

“I guess, if you want to.”

 

“Okay. Alright, let’s go.”

  
  


 

Patrick leads Pete up the stairs to his room after them both kicking off their shoes downstairs. So far, Pete is impressed. His house is really nice. In fact, he’s wondering how he hasn’t seen it yet; it’s the biggest house on the block, and Pete always drives on this street on his way to work.

 

Patrick opens the door to his room. It’s a simple room, but Pete likes it—dark blue walls, carpeted floors, black bedsheets, a desk with a lamp in one corner, and music posters everywhere. There’s also an acoustic guitar on a stand in the corner.

 

“Dude, I didn’t know you played guitar!”

 

Patrick looks over his shoulder. “What? Oh, that thing. I haven’t played in a while, but I still know some, I guess.”

 

“That’s awesome. Hey, can we stay here instead? I like this place a lot better.”

 

“Um, alright. I think I have some Disney movies in the basement. Technically I still live with my parents, but they’re on vacation ‘til next week. You can stay here if you want.”

 

Pete, feeling a sudden wave of boldness, steps forward. “I think I’d like that,” he says softly, taking Patrick’s hand in his own. “Hey, Patrick?”

 

“Hm?” Patrick asks, looking up at Pete, pretending he doesn’t know what’s about to happen.

 

“Can—can I…” Pete takes a deep breath. “Can I kiss you?”

 

Patrick smiles. “Yes, _please_.”

 

They lean forward together and connect gently. Pete feels Patrick’s petal-soft lips pressing against his, and he wraps an arm around the smaller man’s waist, trying to pull him closer. Patrick sighs as he winds one arm up Pete’s neck, settling it in the silky hair at the nape of his neck. Pete tilts his head to deepen the kiss, his other hand moving to take off the hat Patrick is wearing so he could feel his hair under his fingers.

 

Pete decides that he wants to stay here and kiss the breath out of Patrick forever. He’s kissed a lot of people before, but never has he felt something so affectionate—Patrick is being extremely careful, and Pete can tell that he’s putting all of his energy into this moment. He wants it to last as long as it can, but they’re both running out of breath, fast.

 

Patrick breaks first, tilting his head back to try and get more air. They’re left standing there, each gasping for breath and wishing that it could’ve been longer, but Pete is grateful for the little taste he got of Patrick. He’s keeping him forever.

 

“You’re good at that,” Patrick says, laughing a little.

 

“Thanks. You are, too. God, I’ve never felt something like that. That was amazing.”

 

Patrick tangles his fingers with Pete’s, resting his head on his shoulder and closing his eyes. “Mmm. I still have to change. Go wait outside.”

 

Pete obeyed the order, closing the door behind him as he goes. He’s about to walk downstairs when he hears a voice from the other side of the door. A few steps closer, and he realized that Patrick is singing. Not only that, but he has the most breathtaking voice Pete’s ever heard. His runs are _flawless_ , executing themselves without error. He has the largest range of anyone Pete’s ever encountered, and he sings high notes with such practiced expertise that Pete finds himself _completely_ enamored. When was Patrick planning on telling him that he could do this?

 

Patrick steps out of his room. He looks significantly more comfortable—he’s wearing blue striped pajama pants and a Batman t-shirt. Patrick notices Pete standing open-mouthed right behind the door and raises an eyebrow. “...What?”

 

“ _Dude_ ,” Pete says breathlessly. “When were you gonna tell me that you can sing like that?”

 

Patrick blushes. “Oh, uh, I hadn’t really thought about bringing that up. Don’t ask, don’t tell sorta thing.”

 

“But why?” Pete asks.

 

“I’m not that fond of my own voice,” Patrick admits. “I don’t really like it.”

 

“What?! How could you _not_?” Pete questioned. “That’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard in my life, I’m serious, ‘Trick.”

 

“Alright, enough of that,” Patrick says, hugging Pete from the side. “Let’s go watch Aladdin or something.”

  
  


 

By the time they finish Aladdin, Patrick is asleep at Pete’s side. Pete thinks that was because he was running his fingers through Patrick’s hair the whole time and giving him soft kisses every five minutes. It felt good, and Patrick was way too tired to keep his eyes open. That was fine. Pete wasn’t gonna stop him from sleeping.

 

He didn’t want to wake Patrick up to drag him to bed, but he didn’t have a choice. He needed to sleep on a bed.

 

“Hey. Hey, babe, wake up.” Pete patted Patrick’s shoulder a few times and nuzzled his hair. “Wake up, ‘Tricky. You need to sleep on an actual bed. Come on.”

 

Patrick groaned as he started to wake up. “I fell asleep?”

 

Pete smiled a little. “Yeah, you did, dude. Let’s go.”

 

Patrick frowned, rubbing his eyes. “‘M sorry, Petey.”

 

“Don’t be,” Pete replies. “You’re really cute when you’re sleeping.”

 

Patrick smiles. “Alright.” He gets up. “There’s a guest bed upstairs, or you can sleep on the couch down here, or you can sleep on my bed and I’ll sleep on mom and dad’s bed. Doesn’t really matter to me.”

 

Pete smiles. “Actually, can I sleep in your bed? Like, with you?”

 

“Um… Patrick sounds unsure. “Yeah, I guess. Just out of curiosity, why?”

 

“Because… uh…” Pete tries to come up with a response. “I want to.”

 

Patrick smiles sleepily. “‘Mkay. C’mon.”

 

Pete follows Patrick upstairs. They enter the room and Patrick flops down on the bed. He’s silent for a minute before speaking. “Oh, hey, I forgot to tell you.” He sounds a lot more serious now, and Pete starts to worry. He sits down on the side of the bed.

 

“Yeah, what’s up?”

 

Patrick swallows hard and presses his palms into his eyes. “I, uh, I kinda… uh…” He was just delaying the inevitable. “I have… bipolar disorder?” He turns to Pete and sits up. “And usually I get depressive episodes at night?”

 

Pete just stared. How could such a beautiful person deal with something like _this_? Pete knew from past experience that it was no fun at all. He could see Patrick starting to get anxious.

 

“I’m sorry, I knew I should have told you before, but I didn’t, and I know how much of a burden it can be and I understand if you want to leave now—”

 

“Hey,” Pete said. The confession had taken him completely by surprise, but he wasn’t about to leave Patrick. “It’s okay. I don’t want to leave you. I know how to deal with this stuff. I can help. Just promise me you’ll talk to me if anything happens, okay? If a switch flips in that pretty head of yours?”

 

Patrick just breathed for a minute. _He understands_. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that. Thank you,” he says. He rolls over and motions for Pete to lay down, which he does. Patrick flips the light switch by his bed. The room is plunged in darkness, and sleep slowly overcomes them both.

  
  


 

Pete is woken up at 3 A.M. by soft sobbing sounds coming from in front of him. He’s immediately alert and tapping Patrick’s shoulder. “Patrick. Patrick! Wake up. Hey, wake up. Please.”

 

Patrick’s tearful eyes open slowly, and they widen. “Pete, oh my God, you’re still here,” Patrick says as he sits up and hugs Pete tight.

 

“Of course I’m here, why wouldn’t I be?” Pete whispers into Patrick’s ear as he holds him back. “Did you have a nightmare or something?”

 

Patrick nods, sniffling. “Well, it wouldn’t have been a nightmare to other people, but it was to me.”

 

“Why? What happened?”

 

“You left,” Patrick breathes. “But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that I understood,” he continues. “I understood why you didn’t want me anymore. Pete, do you _want_ me anymore?”

 

The question was so emotional, came from such a deep place in Patrick’s heart, that Pete felt completely stunned. “Of course I still want you. I’ve never wanted anyone more. How could you let yourself think that? If I haven’t been obvious enough, I’ll be more so.”

 

Patrick sighed, tears still leaking. “No, Pete, you don’t understand—I’m not _good_ enough for you. You are a white satin robe, beautiful and perfect, and I’m the mud you’re coming into contact with. I defile you. I make you unclean. You’re a beautiful being that I’m destined to ruin. I can’t rise to your level, and I don’t want you to sink to mine. This _won’t_ work, no matter how _bad_ we both want it. I’m sorry.”

 

Pete hugs him close and soothes him. “Hey, I know that it may feel like that right now, but we'll get through it. We will, I can feel it in my bones. Listen, I'm not, like, a god or something. I'm human too. And humans mess up sometimes. And we hate ourselves sometimes. But we also love like there's no tomorrow and we hold each other up when we feel like we can't do it anymore and we blast our favorite music in our headphones and dance in the kitchen at 1 A.M. to cheesy love songs. I know how you're feeling right now. I know how badly you want to rip yourself to shreds so that there's nothing left. I know that you wish you didn't exist anymore. And I know this because I've been through it before. But I made it, and by God, if I can make it, you can too. So just sit back for a minute and watch life go by. You don't need to tear yourself up over something in your head. I know it's hard, but I will be there for you every step of the way. I'll help you. Promise.”

 

Patrick is tearing up again, leaning into Pete's shoulder and sobbing quietly while Pete just whispers into his ear the things he loves about him. It seems to calm Patrick down after a minute. Patrick looks up at Pete.

 

“I love you, Pete. More than you'll ever know. You're too good to me. I hope you'll still love me in a month.”

 

Pete kisses the top of Patrick's head. “Of course I'll still love you, baby. I'm pretty sure I'll love you for a lifetime and more.”

 

Patrick blushes (for, what, the fifth time tonight?) and lies back down. “Thanks for helping me, Petey. I love you. God, I love you so much. You are my world.”

 

Pete lies down too, wrapping an arm around Patrick's waist and resting his head on his shoulder. “God, I love you too, Patrick. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Goodnight, babe.”

 

“‘Night,” Patrick mumbles.

 

They fell asleep, and everything was alright in the world.


End file.
